Sands
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PSN ID: SandyJak
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Post by Sands on Nov 10, 2013 18:27:03 GMT -5
Episode 13 - Bleak Falls Barrow: Part 3 Final The doorway opened up to a large cavern. A small stream cut through the stone floor in the middle. I was more than a hundred feet tall, and massive in scope. Most of it looked natural except for a large structure on the other side. This must have been the inner most chamber, and what ever they came in here for had to be here. "Wow... it's amazing!" Myra stepped out into the cavern, slightly lit by the moonlight poking through the ceiling. Daimous and Siggmund walked in behind her. Both looking around the room, it was quite the sight to behold. Across the open stood a carved, almost temple like structure. With a couple torches and a large chest, next to a stone table. They sat in front of another structure. It looked almost like and alter. It was a wall inscribed with several symbols forming words. A language that no one could understand. But Myra recognized it. "A word wall!" She jogged up the steps and approached the wall, leaning her staff against it. Daimous approached her, "What is this?" "Its a word wall, telling a story in ancient tongues.." She ran her fingers along the wall. Feeling the etched letters. "What does it say?" "I don't know... No one around these days can read it." Daimous was puzzled. "Force..." They turned to Siggmund. Who stepped toward the wall, staring blankly at a single word. "That one says force..." The humming in the back of his mind grew stronger. It started to have a sequence, almost a rhythm. like... chanting. In Nordic tones. Like war chants before battle. He tried to keep it to himself. Myra looked at him, in concern, yet intrigued. "How.. do you know that...?" Siggmund stared silently for a moment, then he inhaled, as if to speak. But was caught off by the sound of a stone slab, crashing to the ground. They turned around to see a figure raise up, from what was thought to be a table. It was actually a coffin. It was a tall Draugr, in heavy armor. It held a large ax, and glared at Siggmund intentionally. It stepped out of the coffin, and pointed at him. "Krif kiir..." There was a lstone slab, about a foot across, hanging from its belt. It had a simple etching of Skyrim on it. And a few words around it. Like the ones on the word wall. Myra recognized it. "Thats the slab we need! Hes guarding it!" It approached Siggmund, pointing and ranting further in ancient tongues. "What is it saying?" Daimous asked. "I'm not sure..." Siggmund locked eyes with it. Ready to stand his ground. The Draugr glanced around, gripping its ax. It was looking for a fight, and it would have it. Siggmund stepped toward him with his ax in hand, and Daimous walked around, drawing his blades. He was going to flank the Draugr once Siggmund attacked. Looking back to Siggmund, both concentrating, he nodded... Siggmund raised his ax and called out, crashing down on the Draugr's weapon. Though it was deflected, Daimous charged in from the side. But the Draugr lashed out aggressively. Daimous aborted his attack and and ducked down to avoid him. The Draugr swung wildly, cursing in words unknown. "I cant get close to the damn thing!" Daimous back away, hoping for an opening. A fireball flung in from the side, exploding on the Draugr's back. It screeched out and stumbled over the ledge, falling down into the water. Steam erupted out from below. Daimous walked to the edge, and looked down to the burnt corpse laying among the rocks. Then back to Siggmund who eased his stance. "That Draugr was interested in you." Siggmund looked down to the Draugr as well. "I don't know.." Then he turned back to the word wall. "This place... There's something about it.." Myra was pondering in her head, but snapped into thought. "We need to get out of here, I need to speak to Faringar about all this.." Siggmund and Daimous both nodded. Daimous jumped down to the corpse, and unfastened the slab from it. Siggmund and Myra made their way up the stairs They lead to a small tunnel. Hopefully it would allow them to escape. Sigg stopped at the top, and gazed back down at the wall. It was still very strange to him. Maybe he shared some ancient line with these ruins. Holding some Nordic ties from an unnatural presence. But he didn't know for sure. Daimous jogged up beside him. Patting his chest, "Wake up Sigg, we're getting out of here." He carried on. Siggmund hesitantly stepped back. Daimous was right, maybe it was better to leave this place buried in history. He turned back and began to ascend. He had no idea of the challenge he would soon face.
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Sands
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PSN ID: SandyJak
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Post by Sands on Nov 12, 2013 17:20:02 GMT -5
Flashback - The Prophecy 30 years ago... "Let me get that for you..." Dalphine said, tying a bandage around her comrades rib cage. Esbern watched from across the table, book in hand. The Blades had moved into the Imperial city, and they had been fighting for days. Trying to keep the Elves from sacking it. They held up in the Tiber Septim Hotel. An Inn located in the Talos plaza district, Western side of the city. The Aldmeri Dominion had taken the Temple of the One, and moved in from the main entrance to the South, and the Eastern wall in the Arena District. They were encroaching on the White Gold tower that sat in the center. It was a battle the Empire was losing, but they would go down fighting. Esbern looked around the room. Several soldiers and civilians crowded inside for shelter in the night. Many of them were injured, and only a few blades remained. Banius and Dalphine sat at a dimly lit table with candles. Tomorrow they would fight again, but only to be slow pushed back. "I don't think I can stay here another day.." Banius said, leaning forward on the table. Esbern looked at him. But had nothing to argue. It was a depressing sight, though the crowded room harbored dying solders and scared citizens, it remained somewhat quiet Some children sat together in a circle around a small fire. They were dirty and orphaned. Esbern stared blankly at them. "Maybe one of your stories would cheer their souls.." Dalphine touched his shoulder. They both wore their Blade armor, sprinkled with blood, and scratched and nicked a plenty. Esbern thought for a moment.,, Then nodded in contempt. He stood up and walked past Wolf Bane, who stood next to the window, watching the city burn quietly. The children saw him approach. "Hey kids.. I wanted to tell you a story i just learned.." He said smiling warmly. The children didn't lighten any, just sat quietly. Esbern sat in the circle, crossing his legs and leaning into the light, removing his helmet. "Have you ever seen... A Dragon?" He said enthusiastically. One of the children seemed intrigued. "Dragons aren't real." Esbern crossed his arms. "Then you've never been to Skyrim." He smirked. A few more children were intrigued as well. Esbern opened his book, and looked down to it. Reading it out so children could understand. "When the people of Skyrim grow angry with eachother, they fight in battles much like our own!" He glanced to the children, who all listened closely. Wolf Bane stood firm, but eavesdropped on the story as well. "When Dragons would return, with HUGE claws!" He raised his arms in excitement. "And breathed fire from their mouth!" The children seemed into his rambling, he'd caught their attention. "They terrorized the towns, and SNATCHED up people from the skies!" He grew more enthusiastic with each word. The children bought into it and gasped. Dalphine smiled. "All the people in Skyrim join together, to face the monsters!" Wolf Bane stood silently still, seemingly uninterested. Esbern looked at Dalphine, smiling aswell, it was working. "Did they win?" A child asked. Esbern looked back to them, "Even the Blades themselves couldn't stop all the Dragons!" The children paid close attention. "They flew around, terrorizing everyone, til no man was brave enough to face them!" The chidren looked at each other and Esbern. Wolf Bane's eyes peered beside him, he was interested as well. Everyone in the Inn had hushed down to hear his story. "Skyrim was in trouble! The Dragons were unbeatable!" All eyes on him, the Blades, the children, and the soldiers all listened in. Esbern smiled and sat up straight, raising one finger up. "But there is one they fear."
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Sands
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Post by Sands on Nov 17, 2013 21:37:49 GMT -5
Episode 14 - The Storm: Part 1 That familiar sound of a Lute plucking through the air. Siggmund had already prepared his leather studded armor, and slung his shield over his shoulder. This early morning, he was ready to go to the Jarl's manse. The three returned late last night, Myra stayed in Dragons Reach, probably up all night researching with Faringar. Daimous however, slept in his bed like a rock, and didn't stir in the morning. Siggmund left the room without disturbing him. He might as well let him sleep in. Though it wasn't mid day yet, a few people were already moving about in Whiterun. As usual that crazy preacher hollered about, in front of the Talos statue. Siggmund didn't mind it. As a Nord he believed in Talos, who broke his shackles of humanity and became a God. The Ninth Divine. All Nords did, and a decade of warfare with the High Elves was not going to change that. Siggmund reached the front door a top the steps, and turned around to the glorious view. The entire city stretched out in font of him, and beyond the walls lay the infinite tundra plains of Whiterun hold.Just south was a tall stone tower, with a plume of smoke beside it. This was odd, but he didn't fraught, and made his way in. It was the usual scene. Torches were already lit, and a lot of the court was having their breakfast. No time was wasted in Dragon's Reach. Siggmund moved across the Hall. Along the dinner tables, and into the room where Faringar's study was located. And as he foreseen, Myra was hunched over the desk, in a deep sleep. She must have been up all night with Faringar, who fought to keep awake, reading his notes. Siggmund approached them "Morning Faringar, how fairs the study?" He spoke softly, as to not wake Myra. Faringar looked up to him, eyes dark with tire, he looked exhausted. "Eh.. It isn't coming along as we'd hoped..." He cast an eye to Myra, who was on the verge of snoring. Siggmund crossed his arms, "Why don't you get some rest Faringar. The Dragon isn't going to walk in as you sleep." He smirked. Faringar's head sunk shamefully. "Ooh your right... I won't miss anything..." He rubbed his eyes. "Faringar!" A voice boomed from the outer hall. It almost scared him. Siggmund turned around and looked out the door. The Jarl's Dark Elf body guard stepped in. "Faringar... Ohh.. Your still here." She noticed the two. Faringar stood up, and stepped over to them. "What is it?" "You need to report to the Jarl at the perch, now." She pointed to Siggmund, "You better come along too." They both nodded. This must have been important Siggmund pondered. Unnerved he followed Faringar and the Elf as they made their way out, into the main Hall, passed the throne, and up the stairs where they heard voices. One of them clearly sounded like the Jarl. "So this was not even twenty minutes ago?" Jarl Balgruuf stood next to a pair of guards, one of them seemed a little worse for wear. "Yes, it was only circling about. I've never ran so fast in my life!" The guard was still partly out of breath, his helmet was off and he seemed frightened. Faringar and Siggmund neared them. "Whats going on Balgruuf?" Faringar was more awake now. Balgruuf looked at them "That damned Dragon attacked the Western tower!" He was worked up. "Siggmund, you and Muriel are going there with a troop of guards, and your going to put that monster down!" Siggmund nodded in return, he didn't want to anger the Jarl further. "Wha.. what about me?" Faringar stepped closer. "No. I wont risk all of my assets at once." His eyes flickered among his men, "If they kill it, you can examine the body." Faringar wasn't happy about it, but he respectfully nodded, "Yes my Jarl." The guards moved out down the steps. But Siggmund hesitated, he wasn't sure if the Jarl was serious. He stared at him for further direction. Balgruuf had turned around to the map of the city, beginning to arrange defenses. Then he noticed Siggmund hadn't left. "Go boy! Kill that bastard!" Siggmund was still unsure, but focused in. "Yes sir!" And turned to the stairs. ... Not fifteen minutes later, a dozen soldiers and Siggmund arrived at what was once a great watch tower. Now was in smoldering ruin. The men all gathered behind a large boulder, and observed the area. It was a horrible mess. Bodies littered around the tower, which itself was in pieces. Strung out all over, destroyed in ruin. It was a massacre that Siggmund had seen before. It was no longer a fine encampment for guards to watch the plains. Now it was a grave yard of impending doom. The fires roared on, freshly lit. But no Dragon in sight. "I don't like this..." The Elf said, scanning the area. Siggmund and the other Nords huddled down next to her. All of them were scared, not willing to advance, but it was their duty, and they would see it through. The Elf knocked an arrow. "Men, were going to move in slowly.. Ready your bows. And call out if you see it.." She looked about them, then to Siggmund. "You've seen it before, I want you close. Your the only one who's experienced this." Siggmund was nervous, but listened carefully. He nodded "Right.." Quietly the soldiers mobilized into the fray. Jogging out among the burning rubble, they all watched the skies intently. It was dark, a storm was brewing, and now drops of rain began to sprinkle around them. Ticking off of Siggmunds shield. He had it raised, ax in hand, helmet on. Though he was nervous, he was ready. The bravery in his heart prepared him for anything... And he was going to try his hardest. Even though he was one, lowly Nord, that Dragon would have fight on his hands. They moved in, still quiet. Everything was silently tense, only the sound of rain and fire. Siggmund moved passed a chunk of stone, still vigilant. The fire lit up his face as he strafed by it. Several of the guards were moving closer to the tower along with him. It seemed empty, a bit of smoke lingered out of the doorway. This wasn't a good sign. "Be ready boys..." The Elf moved up the ramp, bow half drawn... "No! STOP!" A Nord stepped out of the smoke, hands raised. "Run quick!" Murial raised her bow, "Whats going on here!?" But Siggmund grabbed her arm an gently lowered it. She locked eyes with him, but Siggmund stood his ground. He looked to the Nord, "Are you alright?" The Nord was frantic, "No! It just grabbed Loki while he tried to run for it! You have to get the hell out of here!" Siggmund grabbed his shoulders, "Listen! You need to relax! Where did-" An odd sound echoed through the air. It was unfamiliar to the soldiers, but Siggmund instantly recognized it. It flared in from the mountains to the south, and bounced on into the plains. Everyone stopped, dead silent. They all looked into the skies. One of the soldiers looked down to Siggmund and the others. "What.. was that?" Siggmund grit his teeth, he knew. Another roar echoed from the mountains. It was daunting, almost otherworldly. The surviving Nord grew anxious. "Gods no... Its back! Its back!!" He pushed Siggmund away and ran back into the tower. Siggmund backed up towards Murial, raising his ax. "Get ready!" All the soldiers drew an arrow, some of them swords. Frantically they looked around, unknowing of what to do. Siggmund stepped down the ramp, it seemed he was willing to take control of the situation. "Spread out! Spread out!" The soldiers, even Murial listen, moving into a wider skirmish formation. Scanning about. Another roar called out around them, and they grew more frightened. But Siggmund was ready, he walked among them, shield to his chest. He was not afraid. A roar blasted out from above. It was here, right on top of them. Suddenly everything was chaotic. It soared around them, swirling the smoke among the rain. It was a terror to be hold. The soldiers lined up their bows, but it was too fast, they couldn't get a beat on it. Siggmund watched closely, facing it with his shield as it flew about. But something was different, Memories gave him a large black Dragon with spines and red eyes. This one was different... It was a faded green, and it was covered in scales. Not like the one he saw before. It was a different Dragon entirely. Now things were clear... What that hooded man told him at Riverwood. He knew, this wasn't a random event. That wasn't the only Dragon alive in Helgen. This was something much bigger. The Dragon shot fire from its mouth, still gliding in circles around them. Almost as if it taunted them. Siggmund looked up at it, clutching his gear. Waiting for it to make a move. The Dragon's head poked down at him, it seemed to notice him from the group. But he was ready, bashing his ax on his shield. "Come on!" He shouted out. But the Dragon spoke back, shocking them all. "Hmmm.. Dovahkiin!"Everyone stopped still, now it was time. Siggmund stood fast, unknowing of what it spoke of. Until now he didn't even know they could talk. And stranger he had no idea what it just called him. But it didn't matter. Suddenly the ground shook violently. Mud splashed up and sprinkled in the rain. Along with a gust of air swirling past Siggmund's shield. Everyone ducked down to avoid getting blown off their feet. All except Siggmund, who stood tall to face it. The Dragon stood on all fours in front of the group. Raising its head, it locked eyes with Siggmund. In return he stepped in front of the rest the troop. "Get back monster!" He challenged it. The Dragon lowered his head down to Siggmund's level. "Hin krasaar voth maar Dovahkiin."Siggmund kept strong, but was confused. "What... did you just say...?" "You do not even speak our tongues.. So arrogant."Siggmund raised his shield. "Well you wanted me! Here I am!" He got into stance for battle. The Dragon huffed, and raised up on his hind legs, spreading out its wings. "Then come Dovahkiin! Show me what your made of!"
It shot into the sky, knocking several men into the mud. Giving out another echoing roar, it swooped up, banking downward, and gained speed. It was a giant missile, flying straight at the troop. They backed up, knocking arrows and seeking shelter. But not Siggmund. Once again, he stood ready, shield and ax raised. This was his fight, and for some reason he had yet to understand, he was destined to battle. And so he would. It's what he was born for.
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Sands
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Post by Sands on Dec 2, 2013 0:20:04 GMT -5
Episode 15 - The Storm: Part 2 His first, determined steps, turned into a slow jog. Deep, rhythmic breaths. Eyes set on his target. It was the courage that drove him to face this threat, or get himself killed. But this wasn't his choice. Siggmund knew this battle was inevitable. All he could do was follow his instincts. Siggmund jumped into the air, and leaned into his shield. Slamming into the Dragon's snout. The resulting impact sent the Nord reeling into the air, and plummeting down into the flooded grass. The Dragon felt the impact as well. It left a split on its nose, and knocked it off balance. Force it to land before it hit the tower. Siggmund tumbled, and landed on his back. Clenching his shield are and wincing in pain. "That wasn't a good idea..." The Dragon gained its footing and crawled over to his Nord enemy. "Foolish boy!" It opened its jaws to snap down on him. Then several arrows flurried in from its flank, along with a group of Nords charging the Dragon. The Guards had joined the battle, and were eager to save their brave ally. The Dragon raised back up, and turned to them. Eyes intent. There was a grumbling deep inside its throat. Vibrations up its back, as the arrows bounced off. Bright orange flickered from its beak, and the charging Nords stopped dead in their tracks. "Get back!!" Fire erupted outwards across the gap. Engulfing the Nords, they fell to the ground in smoldering ruin. The remaining archers fell back behind the rubble, trying to avoid a blazing end. The stream of fire kept flowing outwards. Seemingly un hindered by the rain. But enough was enough. It closed its mouth, and the grumbling slowed heavily. A piercing ax slammed into its eye, and the Dragon roared out, standing up and falling backwards. Siggmund followed through, charging forward at the scampering beast. His battle cry shuttered in the thunder. "You will die you monster- Raaahh!!" He leaped up on the Dragons neck, hacking with his ax. Nords were a fierce race. Many of them had tempter mental tendencies. Easily fired up in the heat of battle. And Siggmund was no exception. The Dragon thrashed about, throwing the Siggmund off into the mud. But even without the border, it continued to thrash, blind in one eye. Out of reflex, it shot into the air. It roared, although intimidating, it was pretty obvious that the Dragon was wounded. It was unstable in flight, almost wobbling. It couldn't be much harder to finish off. Sggmund ruffled to his feet, and watched it soar around like a looming shadow of death. He ran over towards his comrades. "Get ready! We have it on the run!" A few of the guards, and one Elf, peeked out from cover. Almost relieved. Siggmund hopped up onto one of the broken stairs, and slowed to a walk. Locking his eyes on the Dragon. But then he looked back down to the soldiers. In return they looked up to him, almost as a leader. Though Siggmund honestly had no idea what he was doing. They looked at him, and he just stared back. Was he suppose to give a speech, maybe finish the job and fly after the Dragon? He was unsure, almost nervous. "Uuuhhh..." His eyes flickered around them... "Watch out!" Siggmund turned around to a wall of flame. The Dragon blurred over head, and nothing but fire followed. He jumped forward off of the rubble, the heat cooking his back. The Dragon swooped by, and banked sideways around the tower. Still visually injured from the fight. But it wasn't over yet. Siggmund landed on the ground, rolling forward, back into a steady jog. "Lets finish this..." He ran surely up the stairs, and ducked into the tower. On his way were a couple of distraught solders, still huddled in the corner. Frightened by noises from outside. They stared at him, their eyes pitched wide, shivering. But Siggmund kept moving, across the room, and up the spiral stairs. The tower went up a few stories, a spire in the plains was a valuable asset. Now it would be a perch in which the Dragon would face his "Dovahkiin" All he had to do was get the Dragons attention. Then he broke out into the loud rain, and rumbling roars of his adversary. He pondered how to get the Dragons ire. But it was easily remedied. The Dragon spread its wings and slammed down onto the towers highest floor. And Siggmund reacted quickly, ducking down and sprinting forward. He lashed out before the Dragon caught its balance. Landing his ax above its chest plate, and pulling it down. The pointed blade on the bottom dug deep under its breast plate, reeking havoc internally, and severing the wound. The Dragon's roar was almost a screech in pain, as it jerked back, pulling Siggmund with it. Together they tumbled off the tower, and crashed into the ground. A shockwave of rain and mud blasted out like waves from the ocean. The impact shook the ground, even for the soldiers, several yards away. The Dragon bashed against the rubble on the ground, leaving a gapping wound in its wing and ribcage. It screeched out again, and rolled over on its chest. Lashing out with its claws and tail. This wound was fatal. It thrashed around and squirmed, yelping and screeching. Its unnatural sound keep the soldiers from approaching, they stood back hesitantly. The Iron helmet lay, half buried in the mud. It was a silent tomb stone. For the Dragon. Siggmund reached down and picked it up, walking toward the desperate monster. Shield on his left arm still, helmet grasped in his hand. The Ebony ax was still embedded in the Dragons chest. A cut on his fore head stretched down to his right brow. He was bruised in several places. But otherwise well for the moment. He placed the helmet on his head, determined. He would finish it off. The Dragon had stopped panicking. Resting its head down on the ground. Its breathing was weak, and its eyes grew heavy. They followed Siggmund as he grew closer. "Hmmm... Krosis....""You started this." Siggmund stepped up to its head. "No... It wasn't a choice for either of us.."Siggmund was puzzled by its words. The other men sensed less urgency and approached the two. The Dragon raised its wing slightly, revealing the ax stabbed into it. Siggmund grabbed it, and pulled it out. The Dragon didn't flinch. "Mun Krif Lot.. Dovahkiin...""What did you call me?" Siggmund raised a brow. The Dragon huffed humorously, "Your true name...""Why? What does it mean?" "Hmm... Finish me, and find out!"Siggmund looked back among the soldiers. They all stared at him, waiting to see what would happen. He turned back to the beast, and raised his ax. "So be it."
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Sands
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Post by Sands on Dec 15, 2013 4:44:55 GMT -5
Episode 16 - The Storm: Part 3 Final The ax dropped heavy down n the Dragons gullet. Without a sound, its breathing quieter. While Siggmund was still catching his. Its eyes closed slowly, and the breathing stayed still. It was finally dead. Siggmund yanked his ax out. Staring silently at the corpse of the fell beast. All the soldiers, Elf included, stepped up slowly to them. Everyone was quiet. Only the sound of the rain all around them. A few moments passed without a word. A few guards approached the beast, looking to agitate the body. Making sure it was dead. Siggmund looked up in the sky, and took a big breath. "Krosis...?" "We need to inform the Jarl at once." The Elf stepped up to him. "You did a good job." She placed her hand on his shoulder. Siggmund nodded lightly. "Right.. lets head back." He took a step back. Murial turned along with him. Then he stopped still. Eyes locked forward. He stared blankly into the rain. The Elf stopped, and looked back to him. "Siggmund?" His fingers extended, and he squinted. There was a tingling, surging through his arms, and up his shoulders. His hairs stood up on his neck, and his pupils dilated. There was almost a... flood, of warmth. Blanketing across his back. Flowing in his torso like his own blood. He could feel it coursing through his veins. It was comforting, and empowering at the same time. "Are you alright?" He turned around, staring dead at the corpse of the Dragon. It lay silently, almost as if it were made of stone. But then there was... almost a flicker of light. Glittering around its body. It was a bright orange, like fire. It was almost white. Spots on its hide, bright orange as well, began to dot on its flesh and scales. They grew larger, expanding outwards across the Dragons entirely. Like flames climbing up a piece of paper. Its hide burned to a glowing white ash, of some supernatural form. Everyone jumped back. "What is happening?" A soldier shouted. Siggmund walked closer. And as the Dragons hide burned away, nothing remained but the large, sturdy bones of the inside. All of the large scale and rigged spines eroded into magical ashes that dissipated in the wind. Then a bright, stream of light flowed out from the corpse. And extended, swirling threw the air. And blasting out around Siggmund. Everyone became concerned, and approached him. "Whats happening!?" But Siggmund seemed at ease. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. It was a warm feeling. As if he had drank a hot tea in the eye of a blizzard. He could feel it moving through his body. It was a welcomed relief. The swirling light trailed into an end. And the Dragons hide evaporated from its body. Nothing remained but bones. Siggmund opened his eyes, and exhaled deeply. Then he looked down to the skeleton. What was this feeling? This was the strangest sense he had ever had. Like he just read an entire book in an instant. And remembered all of its contents. "Siggmund, are you alright?" A helmeted guard stepped close. However, Siggmund stared silently, clutching his fists. Everything inside him told him to shout. To say something he wanted to so badly. But he had no idea what it was. "What was that kin?" Another soldier placed his hand on his shoulder. But he was still quiet. Think... think... Siggmund looked down to his hands, still armed. It was at the tip of his tongue. Murial stepped beside him. "Nord! Can you hear me?" She leaned forward to look at his face. "Say something." Siggmunds eyes snapped up ahead. That was it! He knew what he wanted to do. It was so clear to him now. Without a thought, he gently pushed his comrades out of the way. Then he widened he feet, and tensed his legs. Almost as if a stance to resist a heavy wind. His instincts kicked in. Like an inborn ability. He flexed his brow and clenched his fists. All he had to do was say it. He took a deep breath, and shouted as loud as he could. It struck like deafening thunder across the plains. "FUS!"... "I felt something..." An old man, hooded, in black robes. He sat on his knees, hands interlocked in the other's sleeve. His eyes flickered quietly along the stone floor of the temple. It was a dark, stone room. With candles lit all about, and stretching down the hallway behind him. A large square window sat infront of him. The contrast of blinding white snow from the outside it up the floor where he prayed. A tall man, in a black worn cloak, and a wicked a great sword on his back, stood with his arms crossed. He stared outside, into the white. "Wolf Bane.. It was him..." The hooded man turned his head. "Your sure?" The old man in robes climbed to his feet slowly. "I'm certain... It is time." Wolf Bane turned around. To the bright window, he was nothing but a dark, intimidating silhouette. Only a pair of glowing, orange eyes from under his hood. "That crazy fool was right..." He mumbled. The old man stroked his beard, and smiled. "We all knew this day would come." The serious, glowing eyes flickered to the old man. "I'll get the others."
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Sands
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Post by Sands on Dec 17, 2013 7:15:56 GMT -5
Episode 17 - The Summoning: Part 1 "I'm telling you, I should have gone with them!" Faringar, the court wizard of Whiterun, was furious. He stomped do the main hall, towards the door to his study. He had just gotten away from an argument with the Jarl. Who's temper was well known. However Balgruuf carried wisdom as much as he carried furry. He knew to simply drop the matter with he old friend, and Faringar would relax. He stormed into his room, but stopped dead. The only thing more frightening than an angry Nord, was an agitated Breton women. He hushed, and stepped lightly towards the back room. Not to disturb Myra, who still slumbered heavily. She hadn't stirred at all in the morning chaos. Like many of the people in Whiterun, she was un-aware of the Dragon that'd claimed the watchtower. Faringar mumbled to himself, as he was rearranging some notes, placing a large paper canvas buy the stone slab. He dipped his quill in jet black ink, and began to drag it along the paper. Starting to trace the shape of Skyrim from the slab. There was a slight rumbling on the table. Causing a ripple in the jar of ink, just before another dab. He paused... And listened quietly. "Damn soldiers... keep it down..." He mumbled again, as he made another mark on the paper. There it was again. Another slight rumbling. This time he stopped, placing his quill in the ink, he stood up to look about. Myra was still asleep, and a few people were walking here and there, among the Hall. Another tremble... What was going on? Suddenly a violent shake, The entire manse trembled like an earthquake. It caught him off guard, he reached out for a wooden pillar, to catch his fall. Myra shuttered, and jumped awake from the shaking. She looked around clueless. They both glanced at each other. "What... was that?" She asked, harshly concerned. "I have no idea." Another violent tremor blasted around them. This time thunder shot through the Halls along with it. Dust sprinkled down from the roof above. Faringar looked up, then frantically back the Myra. "We need to evacuate the building!" Myra looked around the room. "Is it the Dragon!?" Faringar stood still, his eyes locked with hers. He worried now, that the Dragon destroyed the troop of solders. And now would claim the city. Myra had noticed the terror on his face, she now grew skeptical. Another heavy tremor with thunder. Several papers and tools fell from the tables and racks. A cabinet of enchanted weaponry tilted over and crashed down. pushing both of them to the ground. This time the thunder was deafened by a quire of godlike voices. They shook the lands to the core. Tearing down the banners, chests and cabinets all around the Halls. "DOVAHKIIN!" Myra crawled forward, and looked over the Faringar, who rested against his desk. "Dovahkiin?" Several men and women ran by outside the doorway. Most of them ran for the exit. One of them stopped at the door. He ran inside and grabbed the enchanted cabinet of weapons. Grunting as he lifted it up, and leaned it against the wall. Then he turned over to Myra, extending his hand. "Daimous?" Myra was happy to see him. She grabbed his hand. "We need to get out of here!" He pulled her up, and then reached for Faringar. She followed him to the door. "What is happening?" "I don't know. But everyone is moving out on the streets, I came looking for you two." "No doubt the Jarl has begun evacuating the city." Faringar said. They moved out into the crowd of people as the merged for the doorway. Myra looked over to one of the Jarls stewards, and called out. "Where is the Jarl!?" He didn't hear her. There was another giant shake, followed by the thunder and voices. "DOVAHKIIN!""This is madness! What is happening!?" Daimous called out as they broke into the raining winds. Myra answered. "I don't know! Is it the Red Mountain?" Faringar caught up with them. "No, there wouldn't be thunder." They came down the long stair into the central plaza. Next to the statue of Talos. It was a crowd of scared pedestrians. Cowering under the might of the world. True chaos was all around them. Jarl Balgruuf and a squad of soldiers came out from the Hall. Instantly he pointed towards the main gate. "Everyone evacuate! Clear out the city!" "What is happening!?" A citizen called out. Several of them began to yell out in question. All of them were frightened. "Silence!" The Jarl raised his hands. "You need to get out to the plains! The city isn't safe!" Daimous hollered out among them, "We need to move now! Come on!" He began to push people, and urge them on. The crowd began to inch forward. Several guards ran along with them. Leading them in fashion to the gate. Another giant tremor boomed. The rain was starting to subside. Along with it came the sunlight between clouds. The main gate swung open as the people made their way out on the road. They crowded pass the draw bridge, and along the crumbling walls. Eventually assembling the road outside, along the stables. Myra and Daimous were still grouped with Faringar. They greeted the Jarl as the quakes continued. He grabbed Faringar's shoulders. "We need to get an envoy ready immediately!" Faringar was confused. "What? Why? What is going on Jarl?" The Jarl calmed for a moment, his eyes shifted South, and then upwards. Faringar's eyes followed. He pondered, and then looked back to Balgruuf. "The Throat of the World?" Balgruuf, still breathing heavily, locked eyes with him. And nodded slowly. "The mountain?" Daimous stepped up to them. "No.." Myra looked up as well. "High Hrothgar." Daimous was still puzzled. "High what?" The Jarl looked over to him, and released Faringar, "The Greybeards. They're summoning someone." Myra looked over to him, her eyes lit up with joy. "The Dragonborn?" The Jarl nodded. "Its the only reason I can muster..." Daimous took a few steps back. "But... The Septim bloodline has been dead for centuries." Myra stared downwards, running it through her mind. "Martin Septim had no children!" Daimous stepped forward, pointing his hand to the ground. Then pointing it to the mountain. "What is going on..?" Faringar shook his head. While the Jarl placed his hands on his hips. Myra looked up to them, as sunlight cut through the clouds. "Hes right, there hasn't been a Septim Dragonborn in 200 years." Matin Septim was the last known Dragonborn to walk Tamriel. When Oblivion invaded the Imperial city, he gave his own life in order to save everyone. Literally summoning a God, to vanquish Mehrunes Dagon. A tale for another day. Daimous was stumped, almost flustered, "Then who can it be?" They were caught of guard be frantic whispering and gossip among the people. Slowly a man pushed his way through the crowd, and stepped out to the Jarl, and his comrades. It was a familiar sight. The man they sent out in the morning, he returned, a hero. Siggmund approached them, drenched, muddy, bruised and sprinkled in the blood of the Dragon. "Its me."
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Sands
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Post by Sands on Dec 29, 2013 3:46:13 GMT -5
Episode 18 - The Summoning: Part 2
Shortly after Siggmund's arrival, the thundering quakes stopped. All of the people moved back into the city and began to clean up the mess. Though it was a terrible, and frightening event. Many of the Nord's in Skyrim are familiar with the Greybeard's summonings. Though no one around had lived long enough to see it before. It wasn't the first time in history. The first being Tiber Septim, who was summoned by the Greybeards, hundreds of years ago. They told him to move south, and Conquer the Cyrodiil badlands. And begin the Legendary Septim Empire. Though it wasn't exactly a joyous occasion, many of the people were more intrigued then devastated. They moved about, picking up debris, and repairing destruction's in the houses and shops. Sweeping up dirt and wooden chunks in the streets, soon all evidence would be gone of this monstrosity. Jarl Balgruuf paced back and forth in his study as a few maids moved about, cleaning up the mess. Myra and sat next to Siggmund, who was being interrogated by Faringar. They both took notes. Faringar was easily more frantic. "What was the most noticeable thing about its behavior?" He questioned hastily. Siggmund wasn't able to answer fast enough. Before he could speak, they both stopped and stared at him expectantly. "Uhh... It was surely prideful." He looked to them, trying to helpful in their research. "Right..." Faringar continued to write. Myra turned to Daimous, who leaned against the shelf, peering out the window to daylight. "The Dragon at Helgen didn't speak as well did it?" He was caught of guard, "Erm... I don't think so?" He looked at Siggmund to be sure. Shrugging. "Faringar, your research will have to wait." The Jarl interrupted. "What? Why?" The Jarl placed his hand on Siggmund's shoulder. Though his face wasn't lit with happiness. "You need to get to High Hrothgar." Siggmund was put on the spot. "But.. All the way up-" "Yes. Prepare to leave tonight." The Jarl was stern about the subject. "You think i can make it all the way up there?" He stood up, still concerned. "Ofcourse you can!" He retorted. The Jarl placed both hands Siggmund's shoulders, and leaned in to lock eye with him. "Siggmund.. You are Dragonborn. You will do this, because it is you destiny." Siggmund looked down to the floor, his eyes scanning around. He was unsure of himself, and hesitant to try. The Jarl gave him a slight jerk, and Siggmund looked back into his eyes. "You are the only one in this room who can.." This struck Siggmund deep. The Jarl was right, he needed to answer these summons. "I just go up there?" The Jarl huffed, "It won't be easy son." Faringar added "Its a long journey in the cold heights." "How long?" Siggmund looked at him. Myra cut in "7000 steps..." Everyone in the room stopped to look at her. Siggmund looked especially detoured. She shrugged. "I'm sorry bub." Siggmund was visually uneasy. But Daimous approached him. "Listen, you can do this. You are more capable than any of us." He looked to his Imperial comrade, still unsure. Myra stood up next to them. "The Greybeards chose you for a reason." "Right!" Faringar added in again. "It is decided." The Jarl took a few steps back, and turned to his lessors. "You will leave for Ivarstead, tonight." "Tonight?" Siggmund grew uneasy again. "Yes. Faringar, take him to my steward to prepare his Journey. And when he returns, we will have our new Thane!" "Thane?" This caught Siggmund off guard. "Yes Jarl.." Faringar bowed, and grabbed Siggmunds arm, gently guiding him out of the door. Myra sat back down, while Daimous followed them. "Don't worry Sigg, I've got your back." "No!" The Jarl raised his hand. Daimous stopped and looked at him, as Siggmund was escorted out of the room. "W..What?" Myra was intrigued as well. "Come here Imperial.." Daimous swallowed hard, and hesitantly moved closer. This whole situation spoke ill to him. "Listen... Daimous." The Jarl tried to be less crude. "I can't be sure of your intent here." Daimous saw reason in this. "I am not a spy, if thats what your asking." The Jarl's brow curled, and he turned around, stepping toward the fire. Hands clasped behind his back. Myra looked at Daimous, who glanced back. Both unsure of what will come of this. "The Imperial's are trying to garrison their soldiers in my city.." The Jarl said, gazing into the fire. Daimous stepped forward, "I've heard of this, before I left." The Jarl stroked his beard, and squinted. "Well I don't want them here." "They won't like that.." Daimous crossed his arms. "I won't have the slaves of the Thalmor running my city!" He turned, throwing an arm out. Daimous nodded slowly. While Myra looked confused. "If you don't let them in, they will find another stronghold, correct?" Daimous shook his head. "No, they will force their way in." "Exactly." The Jarl walked up to the pair. "You will head to Windhelm.." Daimous' heart sank. "Your going to deliver a message to the Stormcloaks." "The Stormcloaks?" Myra looked concerned for Daimous. "They will kill an Imperial on sight." "No... Ulfric will know better.." He looked Daimous in the eye. "And you need to prove which side your on." Daimous grew nervous of this mission. But he understood the meaning. The best way to show his broken bonds with the Empire, is offer allegiance with the enemy. It was a fair point, yet he was hesitant to take it. "Alright.." He nodded slowly. "I can do that.." The Jarl was pleased, and smiled in contempt. "Good.. good." He turned back, walking with less eagerness. "I will side with Ulfric, my old friend. He has permission to move into my city." "What should i tell him?" "Your going to give him the message.." "And your sure I'll make it back..?" "You both will." "What?" Myra stepped up. "If i sent him alone, Ulfric might think hes a spy." Daimous looked at her, almost apologetically. Though she didn't seem to trouble by this. "Alright.. I can keep him out of trouble." Daimous crossed his arms, and raised his brow. Myra gave a minxy smirk. "Then it is settled. You two will head out tonight as well." Daimous nodded, and Myra bowed. "I'll send you off at once. Let me get my ax." They both looked up to the Jarl. "Your ax?"
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Sands
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Post by Sands on Dec 30, 2013 23:40:22 GMT -5
Episode 19 - Ivarstead Three horses trotted out of the main gate of Whiterun. They each carried a rider. Siggmund, Daimous and Myra would travel along the White River, and separate at the crossing. Daimous and Myra would head North, through The Pale, and take the long road to Windhelm. While Siggmund would head East, crossing the river, and circling to the Eastern side of the Throat of the world. Where the path up the Mountain begins, In Ivarstead. But for now they had each others company, walking along in the peaceful afternoon air. "So you just shouted?" Daimous was in between them. "Thats right." Siggmund replied. "What does Fus mean exactly?" Myra asked across. "It means force... I guess." "You guess? How can you not know?" Siggmund shrugged. "It just came to me, on that wall in Bleak Falls Barrow. Ever since then, it was lingering in the back of my mind." Myra leaned back slightly, staring up at the mountain. She pondered of the magics at work here. The horses moved along the riverside, not too far ahead, sat a stone bridge and four roads crossing each other. This is where they would split up. "So you two will head North here." Siggmund pointed, still playing the role of Daimous' guide. Myra slowed her horse to a stop, with the others, and looked at Siggmund curiously. Siggmund smiled, and raised his hand. "Don't worry, I will be fine." "Your sure you don't want us to come with you?" She tilted her head in concern. "Yes, you two have important business as well." Daimous' horse stopped next to Siggmund's he too looked unsure. But Siggmund was humble, wittingly warm hearted with them both. "Besides, can't have you ladies freezing your asses off up there eh?" He patted Daimous' shoulder. He smiled in return. All joking aside, they had their missions, and needed to get at them. It was time to part, for now. "You be careful up there Sigg.." Daimous nodded assured. Siggmund bowed his head respectfully. "You too." He turned to Myra, "Keep him out of trouble will you?" "Oh, Ill give it my best." Again with her smirk. She pulled her horse's reigns, and moved out of his way. Siggmund spurred, and his horse began to trot on wards. He headed up, and across the stone bridge, following the trail between the River, and the Mountain. Daimous looked to Myra, "Alright.. Lets head off." ------ Siggmund moved on into the night, making his way past the falls, and along the bend, eventually cutting through woods. And finally, a few hours later, walking silently on into Ivarstead. Though it was dark out, a few guards of The Rift walked about with torches. Patrolling the road for brigands and other wild dangers. The Rift was one of the 9 holds of Skyrim, on the South Eastern border with Morrowind. It was frequently visited by Dark Elf wasters and refugees. Its capitol was the city of Riften. A shadow driven town of thieves and thugs who'd strong arm you for your last Septim. It wasn't a very lovely place for a family. But Ivarstead was literally, on the other side of the Hold. A peaceful town of mostly Nords. Living in the shadow of the Throat of the World. Siggmund tied his horse, and stepped down. Standing in front of wooden stair. He ascended up, and looked to the wooden sign above the door. The Vilemyr Inn, He pushed the door open, and walked inside. A few of the patrons turned their heads, this wasn't one of the same home grown farmers and stone workers from the town. This was a young Nord, with traditional studded armor, and a large shield on his back. An ax, and helmet hung from his belt. Clearly not a stable boy, most of the people felt he was a warrior. They knew why he was here. Siggmund made his way past the roaring hearth, and stepped up to the wooden counter on the other end of the building. There stood a man behind the counter, he scrubbed a mug with an old cloth. He looked at Siggmund expectedly, as he approached. "Hello traveler. Another pilgrim for the mountain?" Siggmund nodded, and leaned in over the counter top. "How do you figure that?" "You've the look! Not to mention the summoning s have brought people from all over Skyrim. And many more to come I'm sure." Siggmund stared ahead in thought for a moment, then he looked back to the bartender. "Why have they come?" "Many of us believe they are summoning the Dragonborn! I'm guessing you came here believing you are the one as well?" Siggmund smiled, and huffed humorously. "So I wouldn't be the first one i take it?" The bartender shook his head. "Your the eighth one today. I bet there will be a dozen more tomorrow." Siggmund stepped back off of the counter. "Damn!" The bartender turned aside, and reached up for a small bell. "Hey! We have another Dragonborn!" He grabbed it, wringing it swiftly through the air. All of the patrons raised their mugs and pipes. Shouting in drunk excitement. "HEY!!" Siggmund grinned and crossed his arms. It was quite the sight. One of the people called out from the back "And what makes you think your the Dragonborn?" "Go on, give us your proof!" Siggmund raised his hands, shaking his head shy fully. The bartender leaned over the counter "Don't tell me you killed a bear, or hit a bulls eye, or something like that." Siggmund turned to him, "Not exactly kinsmen." He laughed. The drunkards hailed. "Maybe his Da told him so!" One of them joked. The bartender shrugged. "They have all had different stories." Siggmund looked down to the floor, shaking his head still. Then he looked back up, peering at the patrons among him. "I have slain the Dragon in Whiterun!" The room grew quiet. He braced for criticism and disbelief. One of the women spoke out "Wait, I saw that Dragon near Rorikstead." Siggmund crossed his arms, and nodded, "Aye, the green one, as big as a house." Another man hushed over. "Well that beats me." He gathered his things, and stepped towards the door. The bartender stared in disbelief. "You.. Killed a Dragon?" Siggmund turned to him, and nodded once. Many of the people all around Skyrim, had heard of the Dragons returning in the last few days. But, the ominous threat was still light in the air. Nobody figured them to attack their homes or show up in their town. This was almost ill news to the people in Ivarstead. But some of them grew joyous. "The Dragonborn has truly come!" They raised their mugs again. "HOORAY!!" Siggmund was surprised, a few patrons stood up to shake his hand. Patting him on the back, and some of them even bought him an ale. They cheered on through the night. Drinking happily and singing songs. But understandably, Siggmund went to bed early. He had a big day tomorrow. He would ascend, the 7,000 steps.
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Sands
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Post by Sands on Jan 6, 2014 6:57:01 GMT -5
Episode 20 - The Throat of the World Siggmund stepped outside of the lodge. Bright and early. About 6am, the sun was still rising, and the sky was orange with a distant purple. As night time went away, he walked down the road, to the edge of town. Where a large stone bridge reached across a running river. The town of Ivarstead sat silently in the morning. A slight fog loomed on the road. Siggmund cast an eye across the bridge. Their stood the mightiest mountain in Skyrim. I was the Throat of the World, infinite in height, and endlessly it stretched left to right. He couldn't see the top, for it reached above the clouds. It was time for Siggmund to realize his destiny. So he took his first step, and began his journey upwards. He wore his normal studded armor and helmet. But this time he was prepared. A backpack and a fur cloak, thick and enduring. It would suit him well for the cold wind and snow flurries. He crossed the bridge, over the rushing water, and leading to the base of the giant slopes. It was breath taking in size. This sight made Siggmund unsure. The villagers at the inn told him it would take much strength to reach the top. It was covered in dangerous animals and treacherous crags. Along with blinding snow and heavy gusts. But he should reach High Hrothgar by midday, tomorrow. This wouldn't be easy. But nonetheless. He took the first step. Of 7,000 Down in the pine area, the steps moved upwards, and doubled back further ahead. They zigzagged several times up into the snow blinds. It took Siggmund a good hour just to make his way to the top. He was already exhausted. Hunching over on a tree stump. He hoofed to his feet, and started walking along the dirt road as it stretch along the side of the mountain, heading Westward. It gradually moved upward with trees and shrubs. A slight frost laid across them all. He walked along the endless path for hours, it had occasional staircases, and was lined with a few trees. However the giant boulders and sharp rocks began to appear more often. And the wind started to pick up with his altitude. Though Siggmund marched on. The recent chaos of his life had left his beard unattended, it caught the snow as it swirled by. He wondered about what the bartender had told him. About the others showing up, and claiming to be the Dragonborn. Maybe he would run into on and save them the trouble. Telling them to turn back. Although in the day he'd spent climbing the mountain side, he hadn't seen anybody. Only the vast views of the holds around him. He could see for miles along the plains of Whiterun, and on the other side of the mountain, he could see the long mountain range that divided Skyrim from the Morrowind wastelands. The road circled the mountain several times, allowing Siggmund to everything around him. But as he went higher, the clouds began to fog his vision downwards. The sun was started to set, and traversing the mountain at nighttime would easily claim his life. So he stopped at the next batch of trees, and began to make camp. In his backpack, he reached for a tinderbox and began to gather tinder from the brush. An armful would do nicely for now, he would only stay one night. Turning back for his fireplace, Siggmund stopped dead in his tracks. In the snow sprawled out a red trail, dotting along. It was clearly blood, not a good sign. He stepped forward and knelt down next to the main puddle. The snow was disturbed greatly, and several prints scattered around. But they were something of the woods in the Pale. A strange track, bigger the wolves. It was a troll the committed this monstrosity. Siggmund looked around, with a gruesome expression. He grew nervous with such a beast prowling around. Quickly he piled the wood, and struck a tinder in the center. Several moments late, he had a small smoke trail, and eventually a flame. Growing into a bonefire that would comfort him for the night. Though he had no idea if he would sleep tonight. But regardless, he leaned back against a huge boulder, and wrapped himself in his cloak. Nervous of the Troll, worried of the Dragons, and not too fond of his height, he staired blankly into the night stars. Above the clouds, he had a perfect view, as colors began to flourish about. Bright blue and green ribbons waved across the sky. It was the famous Northern lights of Skyrim. Siggmund smiled humbly, relaxing, and breathing deeply. People would gather from all over the world to see these. It was the true sign of beauty in his homeland. The comforting lights brought ease to his burdens. And it was the last thing he saw for the night. ... The next day brought a heavy storm. That hindered his movement as he made his way further up the mountain. Siggmund walked with his shield in hand, using it to block his face from the biting wind. It was never ending, and he was beginning to ware. Though he stepped onward. Pushing his way threw the storm, it suddenly let off, and he almost fell forward on his face. He had been following the path, by staring straight down at it. This lead to him walking between to shear walls of ice. Reaching up past his head, curving inward, forming a cave like structure. The ice was teal green, and ridged, formed by the wind, and something else... They were covered in white marks and lines. Siggmund could already tell, they were claw marks. Siggmund drew his ax. All he had to do was make it to the other side. It was only a dozen or so meters away. Bones riddled the ground, along with dragging trails in the dirt, and tuffes of hair laying about. This was the Trolls lair. Siggmund got into stance, shield raised, he moved slowly through the cave, eyes scanning around. Trolls are viscous monsters that dwell caves, mountains, and sometimes wander the woods. They are fast, and strong. Harshly aggressive, and violent hunters. Easily bigger than most men, they are a most frightening sight. But Siggmund killed a Dragon yesterday. And he ran that through his mind. If he could take on a legendary foe like that, he could face down a Troll. Right? Rattling echoed along the icy walls. Siggmund stopped dead in his tracks, clutching his ax. His eyes slowly scanned among the glistening walls. The ice was very beautiful, and smooth, reflecting light along the cave. Showing him his where a bouts. Another shuffle in the air. It had to be here. Siggmund turned slowly around, checking the other entrance. It was empty, aside from the blinding white outside. The light above his head shimmered subtly. Siggmund began to back toward the exit cautiously. The shimmering ensued, this time catching his eye. He glanced up, eyes wide, he inhaled deeply, preparing himself. Nothing. He took a breath of relief, and relaxed his stance. Then he turned toward the door. He needed to get out of here before he has a heart attack. Then there it was, the Troll barreled through the exit, sprinting at him, it threw its arms out to gain speed over its smaller hind legs. Almost like a Gorilla,.It charged him unhindered, Then Siggmund did the same. He raised his shield and ax, dashing forward, he called out for battle. The troll leaped into the air, raising one of its massive claws. Siggmund reacted by ducking down, shoving his shield into its waist. The Troll fell forward over him, and flipped onto its back. Siggmund stumble, but slid to a stop, and pivoting around to face the beast. But the Troll was already up, lashing out with its arm, It bashed against Siggmund's shield with enough force to knock him over. He flopped on the ground, and rolled over to dodge another swipe. The Troll had went into a flourish, and slammed its claw against Siggmund's shield several times before it grew slower. Leaving a small chance of time for Siggmund to roll again. Getting out of the way. He jumped to his feet, and ran toward the exit. He had to face it on open ground, but the Troll was still violently thrashing. It charged at him, jumping into the air. It landed on the Nord, throwing them both down into the snow. Now they were out into the wind. Open ground, though treacherous with rocks and drops. Siggmund scrawled to one knee, looking up to the Troll, which was much faster than him. It had regained its balance, and began to rush him, yet again. Siggmund had to think fast. He could barely take it head on, some how he needed to muster enough force... Force! That was it! Without hesitation, he threw his arms out, as if greeting the Troll itself. Hopefully this would work again. "FUS"A shock wave blasted out. Blowing snowflakes and pebbles everywhere. It slammed into the Troll, stopping it dead in its tracks. It reeled back, raising one leg to try and keep its balance. Siggmund quickly followed through, he charged forward, raising his shield. Planting his boot on the Trolls abdomen. The kick sent the Troll stumbling back. It slipped down and tumbling down the mountainside. Attempting to grabbed anything to save itself. But to no prevail, it disappeared below. Into the dense snow. Siggmund watched it fall away, breathing heavily. He fell back, laying on his back. Still trying to grip his situation. "I.. just killed a Troll." He smirked. Trying not to laugh out loud. He sat up, and hunched over his knees. The only thing he needed now was to get out of the cold. He shifted his head to his right. A few more stairs streched into the snowy blur, But beyond... A large, dark structure. It wasn't easily visible in the storm. Though Siggmund knew, this had to be it. The temple on top of the mountain. He had finally made it. High Hrothgar.
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Sands
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Post by Sands on Jan 7, 2014 22:29:42 GMT -5
Episode 21 - High Hrothgar Siggmund approached the large temple, hanging on the edge of the mountain. It was made out of some black stone, riddled with Nordic marks and minor damages. Clearly the sanctuary was old, and possibly ill maintained. It had a pair of staircases, leading up to double doors on either side. He took the left. At the bottom of the stair, lay a chest. It was covered in marks, a few flowers and rucksacks were about it. This was the tribute chest for the Greybeards. Siggmund wanted to peer inside, but wasn't sure if it was his right. So he continued up the last few stairs, and finally reached the door. This was his stop. It was also black, but seemed to be shear iron. Siggmund raised his hand, and pounded on the door. It was a hollow door, by the echoes that ensured, but afterwords was silence. No answer. He hit the door again. "Is anyone there?!" He tried to holler, but it was almost snuffed by the wind. He grit his teeth, and looked back to the snow flurried path. He couldn't turn back now. And there was no way he would go down the mountain empty handed. It seemed unjust to just barge in, but damn it, he just climbed a mountain to get here. Siggmund placed his shield on his back, and pressed his hands against the cold iron door. It was heavy, and he flexed hard to make it moved. It slowly drug open, and a blast of cold snow flushed inside, along with him. It was dark, but lit with candles all around. The interior was similar to the outside, with Nord markings all around the floor and walls. Siggmund pushed the door shut, and cut the howling wind off. Silence. He took a step forward. "Hello?" He tried not to yell too loud. A few more steps, he passed a mass of candles, stood up on a stone platter. In front of it, lay a cloth towel, padded on the floor, it looked like a prayer mat to him. He took a step forward to the center of the room. Hallways branched out in both his left, and right, and in front of his stood another pair of staircases. The reached up into the darkness. He removed his helmet, "Is anyone here?" He called a bit louder. But nothing. No foot steps, no answer, just the wind battering the temple from the outside. He placed the helmet on his belt, hanging it by the horn, and gave a big sigh. He supposed he would have a look anyways. He turned to his left, where a hooded man, smaller,, and much older, stood right next to him. It caught Siggmund off guard, and he almost fell back on his hind. The old man raised his head, face still shrouded, and whispered. "Dovahkiin..." Though a whisper, the entire temple trembled and shook. Just like the quakes in Whiterun. Siggmund was shocked, and he had no idea what to say. The old man bowed, and another just like him appeared in the dim light behind him. "..Erm.. Hey..?" He muttered to them. The other bowed as well. "Forgive them..." A voice spoke behind him again, Siggmund turned to another pair of hooded men. The one closer to him spoke peacefully, his face lit by the candles. "Madter Bori there, cannot speak. A single word from him might seriously harm you." He smiled. Siggmund was confused, but tried to gather himself. "It's alright.. Are you..?" "The Greybeards" the man answered as he bowed. "Master of the Thu'um." Siggmund looked surprised, and tried to bow formally. "I am here to answer your summons." The old man stroked his beard. "Hmmm. The Dragonborn has come. Tell me, what Word of Power have you learned?" Siggmund raised a brow, "Word of power?" "The shout my son. What does it say." Siggmund wondered how the Greybeards knew of his power, but he didn't want to dab into things he didn't understand yet. "I've learned Fus, i believe it means=" "Force! Ah, this is a good shout to begin with." He smiled lightly. "There are four of us here." He lift his arms out to gesture Siggmund to look around. "We live here, and waited for your return Dovahkiin." "What is a Dovahkiin?" Siggmund finally had a chance to learn. "It is you, you are Dragonborn, which means, Dovahkiin." He answered happily. "They are the same thing?" The old man understood the problem, and huffed humorously. "It is in.. Dragon tongue." Siggmund squinted. "Dragon tongue...?" The old man lowered his head, "You have much to learn Dragonborn... Let us begin." Siggmund bowed. "Yes master." The old man stepped to Siggmund, placing his hand on his shoulder. "Please, call me Arngier" Over the course of a few hours, Arngeir informed Siggmund of his true power. The Word of Power, or Shout, is known as a Thu'um. Which means "voice" in Dragon tongues. All shouts, or words of power are displayed in a language used by ancient Dragons. These words control a form of magic, that is projected through the throat, since Dragons don't necessarily have arms worthy of casting spells. They come in all forms of spells, from altering the world around him, to unleashing the great elements of Tamriel. They always come in groups of three, the next word amplifying the shouts power. These lessons are not taught frequently. Not to mention to a Dragonborn. The last man to learn from the Greybeards stayed at High Hrothgar for years. He only learned one Word of Power. That was Ulfric Stormcloak. Arngier explained to Siggmund, that the Dragonborn has the ability to absorb a Dragon's soul upon defeating it. Thus preventing it from being revived later on. This soul absorption also give the Dragonborn great insight on the Words of Power that hes memorized. Allowing him to project it into a Thu'um easily. To put it simply, what took Ulfric to learn in almost 5 years, Siggmund learned in one afternoon. Though the constant shouting led Siggmund to be exhausted. He would stay in High Hrothgar for the night, and return to Whiterun in the next couple days. He followed Arngier to the far Eastern side of the temple. Where a few beds we set up for guests. They haven't been use in an age. "You will stay here, and we will give you supplies for the journey down tomorrow." Arngier stepped aside, allowing Siggmund to choose his bed. "So tomorrow.. I just go back?" He asked, taking off a few pieces of his armor. Arngier didn't have an answer for him. "Your life can only be guided by your own hand Dovahkiin." Siggmund leaned forward on his knees, looking at him. "So i just... continue my life?" Arngier stared at him blankly, pondering to himself. Siggmund sat up straight, "You know what i mean Arngier... I can't do that." "I know son..." Arngier slowly walked toward the door. "I have taught you what i know, and will continue to offer guidance if needed." He stopped at the door and turned back. "Just remember, don't lose yourself to the power you are born with. Always know peace. This is the way of the voice." Siggmund half smiled, and nodded. "Thank you master." Arngier bowed, "Ill leave you two be..." With that he left into the dark hallway. "Two?" A shadow stepped out from the other side of the room. At first, completely invisible, it grew into a menacing figure of darkness. It seemed to be a tall man, completely cloaked, and armed. But something odd... his eyes shimmered unnaturally in the candle light. Almost as bright as the flames themselves. "I had a feeling it was you..." He approached Siggmund with ease. As if he were contempt to see him. Siggmund stood up. "Wait.. I've seen you before." "That you have Dragonborn." He stopped, and crossed his arms. Still shrouded in darkness. "Your the man in Riverwood." The hooded man nodded. "What are you doing here?" He stepped over to the small window beside Siggmund's bed. "I was waiting for you." "Your not very forthcoming with anything are you?" The hooded man huffed. "Fair enough..." He stepped forward, and pulled his hood down. His face was pale, and riddled with scars. To the naked eye, he seemed to be middle aged. His hair was a faint blonde, it was long enough to touch his shoulders,but at the same time was faded, almost grey. A strange composition. The most noticeable feature, was his glowing orange eyes. He stood tall, awaiting THE question. Siggmund looked at him inquiringly. "Are you-" "A Vampire? Yes." Siggmund's heart sank, but he tried to keep his stature. "Don't be frightened, I'm not here to suck you blood." His tone was easily sarcastic, but Siggmund wasn't entirely sure of what to make of all of this. "What.. Could a Vampire, possibly want with me?" "I was a Nord before I was undead. My name is Wolf Bane." He stepped to the other side of the room, and then back and forth, pacing patiently. "I am an old friend of the Greybeards." "And..?" "And despite what they told you, we need to prepare for the Dragon menace." "What do you mean?" "I know of a few people, who would die to meet you." "I'm starting to get that impression." Siggmund crossed his arms and smirked. "Listen, this is no longer a fairy tale come true Dragonborn." Wolf Bane lowered his, and stepped forward. "We are under attack." Siggmund's expression grew serious. "Listen. I-" "You are going to fight them." "All of them?" "If you have to." Siggmund wasn't sure what to say. He stepped forward to Wolf Bane with his hands out, like he was going to say something. Wolf Bane placed his hand on Siggmund's shoulder. It was frigid, covered in armored gauntlets, and freakishly cold. "We both have our jobs to do. I need to make some visits. I will contact you soon." He turned toward the door and began to walked swiftly. "Wait!" Siggmund stepped once after him. Wolf Bane turned around. "What should i do?" Wolf Bane raised his hood. "Fight them." End of Season 1
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Sands
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Post by Sands on Jan 12, 2014 4:32:36 GMT -5
Season 2 - The War of Sons
Episode 1 - Moniker "Did you hear?" "What?" "Emperor Mead was assassinated last Fridas." "What? Are you sure?" "Yes.. Its ill notion for Skyrim." "Aye, the War is only going to get worse now." A pair of Nord women gossiped in the center of a flustered tavern. It swung a large sign out front that read "The Bee, and the Barb" It was the center of social activity in Riften. Filled with liars, thugs, strong arms, and down right Thieves, this place was not for a pure of heart... Or the naive. The hustle and bustle rang through the air. Several people of many ethnicity gathered to gossip and trade. An Argonian stood behind the bar, she cleaned a mug as her husband, also and Argonian, walked out to a table with a platter of food. Hardy, and friendly, but this was the most shady Tavern in the hold, wise folk would not be fooled. At the bar, sat one man. He was about 5ft 8 inches tall, and an average 150lbs. Well built, he wore dark leather armor. Almost that of a brigand, but professionally tuned for stealth. The armor had a thick shoulder pad on the right arm, along with a thick leather vembrace, but on his left arm, it remained mostly uncovered with armor, with a fingerless glove and leather strap around his forearm. It was a strange style of equipment. A black tunic was under the curiass, it was short sleeved, and hung down to his thighs, also remarkably thin. It reached up with a tattered hood, that fitted over his head, covering is face in shadow. On his back, was a long, silver blade. About 25 inches long, straight edged, it had a black handle. With a unique symbol at the base of the blade. It was sheath-less, and leaned over his left shoulder. Under his left arm on his rib cage, the free one, fitted a black dagger, curved and wicked. It was ridged, almost serrated, with razor sharp edges on each side. With dark red cloth tightly wrapped around the handle, this was also a strange spot to hide a dagger. But with it so close to his arm, he could draw it swiftly with his left hand. The only thing you could see that was recognizable, was he pale blue/grey skin on his hands and forearms. Easily labeling him as a Dunmer, Dark Elf of the land of Morrowind, the wasteland to the east. He sat leaning forward over the counter, with an almost empty glass of red wine. It settled in the glass, his last drink before he set out. Deathly silent, he was unnoticeable from the crowd. But the bartender recognized him. She stepped over to him, "Can i get you anything else bub?" He sat up, about to speak, when the doors flew open. Four people walked in. High Elves, three of them wore the Green Golden elvish armor, and carried elven blades. The last elf walked in after them, scanning the room. He wore black Thalmor robes.The ominous intimidating warriors walked in stoutly. Pushing pedestrians out of the way. The entire inn grew silent instantly. The Argonian man approached the officer. "What do the Thalmor want?!" The officer stepped up to him, and stood close to his face, challenging the beast folk. "Shut your mouth lizard." The Argonian backed up, lowering his head. No one in the tavern wanted to speak, quietly hushing in fear. The officer walked slowly among the tables, grabbing a glass of mead from a mans hands, he took a swig. Then he reeled and spit it out on the floor. "Gah! Nasty Nord shit." He threw the mug on the ground. "You know, I dont like coming to these gatherings of filth." He spoke loudly so everyone could here. "But we are looking for a fugitive. So i must do my duty..." The Argonian bartender stood frightened, her eyes shifted to the man sitting in front of her. She knew, if the Thalmor were looking for anyone in her inn, it'd be him. He slight raised his head, shedding light on his grey chin, a scar ran down from his lip to his cleft. And his jet black chin hair stubbed about. The light reflected off of his eye. The glint of white stared directly at her. His fingers extended outward, signaling her to back up. So she did, and surely enough, the officer walked sternly up behind him. "You there, turn around." The Dark Elf didn't react. The Thalmor stepped closely, and leaned toward him. "We're looking for you..." No answer. The Officer started reaching his hand up, nearly grasping the hood. "... The Crow" In one quick, instant motion, he unsheathed his dagger underhandedly, struck the officer in the collar, and stabbed the High Elf in the neck. The Officer clutched at his collar, dagger already removed, he fell back on the ground. He choked and coughed. Unable to comprehend what had happened, he rolled over in shock. Trying to locate his comrades. But the Crow was already on them. He rolled over a table, lashing out at the second Thalmor soldier. Before he could react, his neck erupted in red. Like the officer he clutched at his neck, and fell back to the floor, unable to call out. All the pub goers jumped from their seats and moved out of the way for fear of being killed. A third soldier reached for his blade on his hip. The Crow caught his wrist, and pulled it out, slicing the inside of the arm with the back of his dagger. The Thalmor yelled in pain, but went silent when the dagger pierced his ribs. An elbow slammed against his throat. He fell over unconscious instantaneously. The slaughter happened in less than a few seconds. Three High Elves lay on the floor, all of them bleeding along the wooden boards. The last soldier backed to the door in terror. "By the eight!" The Crow sat crouched, holding his blade close. He looked up to his final victim, who busted out the doorway. He took a sharp turn and fled as fast as he could. The soldier ran down the street, pushing a women aside, he sprinted toward the main gate of the city. "Get out of my way!" He screamed in horror. Back at the door, The Crow stepped out into the light. His left hand clutched around the handle of a crossbow. It was raised up, resting on his bicep as he walked calmly out into the street. He lowered it down, holding it with his right hand. Aiming finely at his target. A bolt darted silently out into the daylight air. It whistled by the women, and stabbed into the back of the soldier. The Thalmor screeched out, as it pierced his armor, and fell over onto the dirt. A Riften guard ran out from an alleyway. Jogging over to the fallen Elf. He examined the bolt, unable to recognize what it was. Shorter and thicker than an arrow. He stood up and looked around to the gathering civilians. "Who did this!?" The High Elf coughed, laying in his own blood. This caught the guards attention, and he knelt down to him. "Who did this..?" He asked in concern. The townsfolk leaned in to hear what he'd say. The High Elf grunted, raising his arm out, pointing down the road towards the inn. Then he collapsed in pain. Falling to his wound. He was dead. The guard stood up peered down between the crowd. Looking for his murderer. The street was empty.
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Sands
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Post by Sands on Jan 26, 2014 7:07:32 GMT -5
Episode 2 - Cold memories: Part 1 Far to the North, in the distant vision of the Throat of the World, stood a pair of mighty mountain ranges. They stretched for miles from East to West. Divided by a giant valley, leagues across, buried in snow and pine trees. This valley was called the Pale. Its the cold province held and managed by the city of Windhelm. It was located at the Eastern edge of the valley. Daimous and Myra entered the valley from the Western end. They made for Windhelm, and in the dying evening light, they slowed to make camp in the valley. The journey is slow due to high snow levels and chilling winds. It would take 2 days to make it within the city walls. They slowed to a stop to make camp along the road. The cold nights here are treacherous, with bandits and beasts about. Daimous finally sat down next to their campfire, where Myra reclined and prepared for the cold dark. "So this ax.. If Ulfric gives it back...?" Daimous asked. "Then he won't help Whiterun." Daimous sat down opposite of her, leaning forward on his knees. "Tullius is going to kick those gates down." He shook his head. Myra tilted her head. "I hope there are Stormcloaks to meet them." Daimous leaned back on his fur role. "I never thought I'd be heading to Windhelm alone.." Myra sat up, "You're not alone Daimous." He glanced at her unsurely. Myra sighed and smiled. "It's going to be alright. Nords around here respect men with bravery such as this." "Well I wouldn't know as well as you." He shrugged. "I've lived in Skyrim all my life. Trust me, there is honor among them." "I don't think cowering in my boots would be considered bravery here Myra." She looked at him, squinting in thought, as if conjuring an answer. Then she lightly smiled. "Bravery isn't standing against the odds without fear." Daimous locked eyes with her. "Its being afraid, but standing anyways." Daimous smiled humbly, almost shyly. Looking down to the ground. A cold breeze flowed across the snow. The flames danced and flickered in the breeze. "Thank you." Myra nodded once, and laid back on her role. Daimous leaned over on his elbow, looking upward. There were no stars tonight. It was pitch black from the clouds that reached across the sky above them. Siggmund must've been halfway there by now. While they rested for the night. He wondered what Siggmund would find up there, on top of the biggest mountain in Skyrim. Myra watched him closely. She too was in thought. Daimous was so frightened that the Stormcloaks would kill him, yet he wasn't a supporter of the Empire, not anymore. She had to ask. "Daimous?" He was caught off guard. Snapping back into thought, he looked back to her. "What happened exactly...?" Daimous knew what she meant, but he didn't want to get on the subject. "What do you mean..?" "Why did they brand you a traitor?" Daimous sat silently, staring at her with a bleak expression. She looked concerened, "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to pry-" "Its ok... You should probably know anyways..." She still looked concerned, but remained quiet. While Daimous sighed deeply. "I was in Hammerfell.." He paused and waited for a question, but Myra was still quiet. "We were moving in on a village known as Stonedale. I was scouting for a regiment that was lead by Raimous.." He winced at the name. Myra noticed this, but didn't say anything. "The Rebellion in Hammerfell had a known associate in the town. We were trying to capture him." He crossed his arms and sat up, "We weren't going to hurt anyone.. Just surround the village. Try to ward him out. But.." Daimous looked into the fire. "But?" Myra was hesitant to barge, letting him take his time. "But my brother had a Thalmor handler, and he-" "Brother?" Myra couldn't help but interrupt. Daimous looked at her, but he didn't say anything. "Raimous.. is your brother?" Daimous swallowed hard, lightly twisted his head, adjusting his neck. "He was..."
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Sands
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Post by Sands on Jan 27, 2014 7:15:32 GMT -5
Episode 3 - Cold Memories: Part 2 3 Months Earlier..."Captain Raimous." A dark skinned girl, dressed in heavy Imperial armor, stood affront her commanding officer. Her armor was clearly too big for her, and she seemed younger than mst of the soldiers in camp. Oddly enough, she was a Redguard. Raimous was tall, lightly tanned, and remarkably similar in stature compared to his younger brother Daimous. He was only a year older, and was less of a field man. More of a political one. The only true noticeable difference between them: Daimous was a tad shorter with brown hair, while Raimous had dirty blond. Raimous turned around to the rookie soldier. She seemed intimidated and nervous. Yet he smiled with greetings. "What is it dear?" She bowed her head. "Your scout is back from the hills." "Ah! By the eight, hes getting slow isn't he?" The girl laughed. Her eyes wandered around his tent. Several arments and stands. Fur rugs and cots, lit with torches in the morning light. In the corner of his tent, a hooded man sat, shrouded in shadow. He was easily recognized by his black Thalmor robes that trimmed with gold. She grew silent at the sight of him. Raimous noticed her unease. "He won't bite, recruit." He placed his hand on her shoulder, and looked back to him. "Though I wish he'd try..." The Thalmor stared at him intently. "Will there be anything else sir..?" She asked, easily unsure, almost frightened. "Your free to go." He smiled, patting her shoulder. She mouthed the word "Thanks" without saying them, and hurried out the entrance. Raimous turned around to a long table with a map on it. The map showed a detailed preference of Stonedale. An astound rebel leader had been sighted entering the town from the near by woods, and leaving into the hills just North of the city limits. Raimous didn't want to openly attack the town, not frighten any of its people. Only lure the rebel out and force him to surrender for trail. "You have until sunset." The Thalmor stood up, and walked over to the table. He locked eyes with the Imperial. Raimous leaned over on the table and looked up at him, ill entertained. "Or what?" "Or I will order an attack." "Not on my watch Syndrus" The elf slammed his hand on the table, stepping into the light. His name is Vyndull Syndrus. He was tall, at least 6'3, which is standard for High Elves. With Yellow skin, pointy ears and long golden hair, that reached down to his shoulders. His eye were a dark bronze, with yellow pupils. His cleanly shaven chin hung over his black Thalmor robes. On his belt fastened a wicked Daedric Blade, undoubtedly priceless. The sight of High Elves unnerved most folks north of Anvil. As they had reformed the new Aldameri Dominion, and ran the Empire from behind the dark curtains. Assigning handlers to most of the high ranking soldiers in the Empire. So that they may control it with their own intent. This lead them to be hated, and feared among all of Tamerial. High Elves come from the massive Island country of Summerset. At the Southern end of the continent, they lived in foreign Elvish cultures. Rarely seen by Men and other Mer. Every High elf has an inborn grasp of great magic's. Leading them to being the most powerful wizards of the known world. This kind of renown makes them snobby, and to think highly of themselves. His eyes stared deeply into Raimous'. Who did not falter. "I will Captain. I will tear down this town, take the rebel known as Biran and get what information is needed of him. Unless you want to try and stop me." He tilted his head in, challenging Raimous. "Maybe we can interrogate an Imperial Captain for treason while were at it..?" Raimous crossed his arms. He was not easily angered. "Don't bark at me Elf. There are a lot more Imperials here then any-" Vyndull looked at him with more tension, pushing off of the table. "Then what?" "Then one crab'ass Altmer." Daimous brushed into the tent, already smirking. His armor was well managed, almost untouched. He was cleanly shaven, and unscathed. But a former memory of what he is now in Skyrim. A pair of Imperial gladius' on his back. "Ah brother!" Raimous opened his arms and briefly hugged him. Daimous returned in kind. "What news?" Vyndull leaned back onto the table. "How did your expedition go then?" Raimous added. "Well... I don't know Raimous." He crossed his arms and looked at him unsurely. "What is it?" Raimous asked in return. "I think Biran is setting us up.." "Why?" Vynbull butted in. Daimous stepped over to the table next to them, and ran his finger along the hillsides to the North. "I've found small tube like holes in the grounds here.. and here." "What?" Vyndull was lost from this discovery. "Calm Vyndull." Raimous raised a hand to him. Then he turned back to Daimous. "What do you make of it?" "They're man made, and there's a lot of them. I think they were campsites." "And how the hell do you make that out?" Vyndull stood up straight. "They were holes left from tent posts being drove into the earth." Raimous crossed his arms and rubbed his chin. "That makes sense.." Daimous tossed a black, tomato-sized rock onto the table. "And then I found some of this... Charcoal." Vyndull stepped over to it and picked it up. He examined it. "A thorough job." He looked to Raimous. "There must be more rebels here, your scout must've been in their camp." Raimous turned and paced back to the corner of his tent, then back to the pair. "What do you think went down Daimous.?" The mood of the room was easily more serious. "I think.. They saw us moving into the area, and left in haste." He scratched his head, "But it looks like they tried to cover their tracks..." "You think they'll come back.." Vyndull was caught up to speed with them. "I think they already are... They know this area better than us. They could be but a jog away." "That's it then. We don't take any chances." Vyndull said. "We are going to burn the forest down." "What!?" Raimous lowered his arms and stepped toward the Elf aggressively. "Its the only place they could be hiding." "We are not taking any measures like that." Daimous sighed, and stepped back from the table, allowing his brother to handle it. "We are going to do what is needed of us." Vyndull raised a finger at him Raimous retorted. "Then we back away from the woods, we don't burn-" "We will not displace on the account of these rebels!" The Thalmor began to shout, and stomped over to Raimous. Who kept his manner. "The Thalmor will not stand by while you play peace keeper!" Vyndull drew closer to him, placing a grip on Raimous' tunic. Daimous reached out of nowhere, harshly pushing Vyndull away. "Don't touch him elf!" He placed a hand on one of the blades on his back. Vyndull was greatly offended by this, and reached for his blade as well. Raimous stepped between them. "Gentlemen peace! Keep your blades sheathed!" Daimous stopped, catching himself, he released the handle. Trying to relax himself at his Captains command. Vyndull stopped, but left his hand on the blade for reference. Raimous turned to his handler. "You said I had till sunset. Well its only mid day." He pointed out. Vyndull glared at him. "Give me some time to figure something out. I want to avoid bloodshed." Vyndull, though angry, huffed and nodded once. "Very well Captain... You have till nightfall."
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Sands
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Post by Sands on Feb 1, 2014 4:35:36 GMT -5
Episode 4 - Cold Memories: Part 3 Daimous left the tent and made his way through the camp. Grumbling under his breath. He hated the Thalmor for trying to take control of his comrades, his Empire, and his brother. Not to mention that most High Elves were full of themselves. This one in particular, he didn't like. Vyndull was a young Thalmor officer who was, like most, born into the superior ranks of his company. Now he was the Thalmor "Handler" for Raimous Aldius. So that he might not do anything that would conflict with the White Gold Concordant. To Daimous, this was nothing but an outrage. Even though Raimous took it much better than him. He was a Captain, and needed to handle most thing with tact and a calm mind. It was nonsense! Daimous stepped up onto the short wooden wall between his company and the outside forest near Stonedale. The troop his brother commanded contained 150 soldiers, including other staff. Not a large force in many eyes of the Empire. But a formidable one to the scattered rebels of Hammerfell. Though Daimous grew nervous. He was worried that the Redguards were preparing something big for them. And they just waited patiently for it. Through the afternoon they sent out several envoys into the village to ward him out with offerings of peace. How ever they didn't receive any replies. It was easily suspicious to Daimous and Raimous. The town seemed empty, like no one had ever lived there. But Raimous continued to send envoys, half a dozen before 8pm. There was never an answer. The sun began to set on the camp. Fires began to dot around, and some of the men started to retreat into their tents. But now Daimous was more cautious then ever. He kept his swords on his back, and walked along the edges of the camp. Glaring into the dark woods beside them. The sun grew lower, and the brush was more omniscient. They could be anywhere out there... "Daimous!" He looked to his back, as Raimous was approaching him. "Brother, you shouldn't be out here." "Calm Daimous, I don't burn in daylight." Daimous smirked. "You know, your not the only soldier here..." "What do you mean?" He sat down beside the scout on the wall, facing the darkening woods. "I have an company of good men and women here. You don't have to protect the camp yourself." Daimous looked out to the woods. His expression was tense, and all he did was study the brush. "Everything will be fine brother.." Raimous said. "I'm telling you Raimous.. I have a bad feeling about this." Raimous pondered for a moment, and tried to come up with a way to ease his kin's mind. "Captain Raimous.." A light voice, almost pitiful, chirped behind them. They both turned back to the Redguard recruit. She held her sword belt, as if she tried to keep her heavy armor from falling off of her. Raimous smiled humorously. "Ah, Private, I trust your evening is going well." She bowed her head nervously. "Highborn Syndrus asked for your immediate company at your tent." "What is this about?" "He said one of the envoys has made progress." Raimous' eyes lit up. "Ah! Good news! I will be there at once." "Thank you sir.." "Your relieved dear." "He wanted me to escort you back." Raimous rolled his eyes. "... So be it. Lets be off." He said as he stood up from his chair. He looked back to Daimous and placed his hand in his shoulder. "You get some sleep. You've been busy all day." "I should come with you." Daimous stood up with him. "No." Raimous said firmly. "I will be fine brother. Get some rest." He smiled warmly. "That's an order." Daimous huffed. "Well send me regards. I want to know what the rebels said." Raimous nodded. "You will be the first to know." Daimous briefly placed his hand on Raimous' shoulder as well. Then he departed, walking down the wall toward the far side of the camp. While Raimous followed the Private towards his tent. He walked behind the girl as they made their way through the lazy chaos of the camp. Weaving by tents and campfire, finally they reached the Captain's quarters. She stopped and held the flap open for her Captain. "He smiled politely and ducked inside. "Alright Syndrus what news..?" There was no one there.... Raimous stepped inside, and peaked towards the back. "Vyndull?" No answer, just the quiet pop from the lit torch in the center of the room. "Uhh..." He scanned the room, and turned back towards the recruit, as she brandished a dagger. She rushed forward, frightened for her life. Stabbing wildly at him. Raimous reacted quickly, and caught her wrist. "Gah!" He was shocked as she pushed him to the table, pressing the dagger at him. Raimous, stronger than the girl, was able to throw her off into the dirt. Then he reached for his sword. "What is the meaning of this!?" She didn't say anything, only scrambled to her feet and rushed him again. Raimous didn't have the time to draw his blade, so he struggled to grab her again, and they tumbled to the ground. She rolled on top of him and tried again to press the dagger at his throat. "I don't want to hurt you girl!!" She grit her teeth, but remained silent and she pushed as hard as she could. However it wasn't enough. Raimous began to lift her up off of him. Moving the dagger away. Her eyes frantically flicked from the dagger to her target. She was being overpowered. Raimous tried to reason with her again. "You know... I only want... Peace!" Bright white lighting lashed out from the opening flaps. The stream of magical electricity snapped and crackled as the assassin arched her back up, closing her eyes and wincing in terrible pain. The lighting waved and jolted for a moment. Until it ceased, and she fell to the ground smoldering. Raimous threw the dagger aside, and hastily moved to check on her. Vyndull walked in the door, blade in hand. Small twigs of lighting coursed through his fingertips. Raimous looked over to him, still shocked. "Vyndull! What is going on here!?" The Elf walked casually into the tent, hood up, he stared darkly at Raimous. Who stood up to face him. Without saying a word, Vyndull raised his hand, and began to blast the girl with another stream of lighting. Her body seized back and forth as I the lighting cloaked her. Raimous grabbed his wrist. "Stop it Syndrus!" Vyndull ceased, and grabbed Raimous by his collar, throwing him on to the ground. "And why would I stop!?" Raimous raised his hands. "We need to reason with them! No slaughter them!" Vyndull walked toward him with intent. Beginning to circle around the Captain, he pointed at him. "You would try to supplant with them!" "No! The last thing we need is to fall into another conflict!" Vyndull raised his blade at him. "And why would an Imperial want to become friends with the lowly Redguards!?" Raimous paused, waiting for an explanation. "So you can join them? Rise up against your Elven masters!?" "No! I-" "You planned for this all along!" "Vyndull listen-" The Thalmor raised his sword above his head. "You will die for your heresy! Worthless human!" All Raimous could do was raise his hands to defend himself, as if it would save his life. But he didn't need to. Daimous rushed in, both blades drawn, he struck out with one of them. Vyndull was caught off guard, halting his assault to defend himself. Daimous was flourished with rage. Relentlessly attacking Vyndull with a flurry of blade strikes. But the Elf backed up, finely maneuvering his blade to deflect the attacks. "Daimous no!" Raimous staggered to his feet. Daimous kept attacking, over and over. Eyes blinded by hate for the Thalmor. Raimous reached out and grabbed his brother around the waist, pulling him back away from Vyndull. "Don't do this Daimous!" Daimous didn't struggle away from his brother. He stayed tense, ready to attack the Elf if any reason were to arise. Vyndull eased his stance, and smirked humorously. This set Daimous into another fit. He fought and squirmed to have another chance at him. "Don't you laugh at me you damn Elf!" Then Vyndull began to chuckle with tenacity. Daimous broke free, and raised both of his blades to attack again. But they were both greeted by a violent assault of lighting. They both shook and clinched in searing pain. Vyndull halted for a moment. "You think you have the right to defy us!?" His eyes lit with rage. He continued to shock them both. "I am an Altmer of Summerset Isle!" He stopped again as Raimous collapsed, and Daimous fell to his knees. Vyndull stepped towards him. "We are superior to your kind. I will teach you to respect that!" His bronze eyes swiftly began to glow a bright blue. Glinting in a magical aurora. He raised his free hand, flexing his fingers. It began to glow lightly to match his eyes. A faded blue smoke trailed from his finger tips, as he locked his eyes with Daimous'. "You will bow to me human.. Betray your own kind. Show us how weak your mind really is!" Daimous was breathing heavy, as he looked up to the Elf, exhausted. "You... won't.." Vyndull wrapped placed his hand on Daimous' head, and the light in his hand flashed brightly. The blue smoke puffed out into the air, as Daimous screamed in pain. It was a terrible burning sensation the flushed through his skull. Vyndull held it there for a moment, burning into Daimous' brow. "Slay your own kind, worm!" He pushed Daimous to the ground. Daimous grabbed at his face, rolling over in pain. Vyndull walked towards the exit, laughing menacingly. "I will tell of your betrayal to your men." And with that, he left the tent, sheathing his blade. Daimous struggled to get control of himself. Rolling and jerking in searing pain. Raimous laid on his side, weakly staring at his suffering brother. "D-Daimous.." Daimous suddenly stopped. Stretching his limbs as far as they'd go. His body locked in place as he stared silently at the ceiling. "Daimous..?" His eyes flashed bright blue, leaving a steady glow the faintly haunted him. Daimous looked at Raimous, dead silent, he moved to his feet. Ignoring the pain entirely. He reached for both of his blades. Blankly staring ahead of him. Raimous struggled to sit up, frightened by his own brother. "Daimous..? What are you doing.." He was still weakened from the attack. Daimous looked over to him, still silent, eyes glowing blue with dread. "Brother..." He drug out his words, as if trying to learn them anew. Raimous stared at him quietly, he didn't know what to do. He began to breath heavily, then he heard the commotion outside. In the conflict within his tent, no one had noticed the attack on the camp by the Rebels outside. Just as Daimous predicted. He could hear shouting, and the clanks of blades being struck together all around him. He needed to get out there and try to resolve the situation. Then Daimous ran both of his blades through his chest. Raimous coughed, his eyes widened, and his breath halted. He locked eyes with his brother, who still stared silently at him. Blood began to trickle down his hands, and he clasped the blades, as if he were going to pull them out. "D-...Daim.." He muttered as blood seeped from his lips. Daimous' suddenly ceased to glow. Instantly he was in shock. Raimous grabbed his arm, smearing his own blood on him. Instantly Daimous was in shock. "Oh no.." He placed his hand on the check of his faslty dying brother. "Oh Gods what have I done!?" Raimous began to lean back, unable to speak. His body could no longer support itself, and he fell to the ground. Daimous eaned over him, releasing his blades. Removing them would only severe the wounds. Raimous began to open his hands, and reach for anything he could find. Grabbing at Daimous' shoulders and arms, his pupils dilated as he lost all of his strength. Yet he still tried to speak. "Daim-..." Daimous clutched at the back of his neck, propping his brother up so that he may see him for comfort. Tears began to fill his eyes. "I'm here brother.. I've got you." Raimous squeezed the cloth on the Daimous' armor. "It's ok... It's ok.. I'm here." Every breath Raimous took was deeply wheezed, and he his eyelids began to flicker. "I'm.. I'm so sorry.." Daimous could no longer hold his grief. His eyes now grew tears heavily and he took deep, sudden breaths as his heart raced. Raimous coughed, blood spilling from his mouth. His eyes frantically darted around the room. Until they stopped. Daimous paused for a moment quietly. Hoping to hear the dying breaths persist. But Raimous went silent, and his hands fell to the ground beside him. Daimous watched his eyes closely. Expecting them to move. "No..." He was panicking. "No! Raimous!" He sunk his head on the shoulder of his brother, and began to cry harshly. "I tried to stop.. I tried.." His words were interrupted with heavy breathing on his own part. He placed his hand on Raimous' cheek. "I'm so sorry..." "This way! He's still in there!" A familiar voice. Daimous snapped eyes with the opening of the tent. Still bloodshot and filled with tears. It was Vyndull, he knew it. Though flourished with emotions. Daimous knew he needed to get out of there. So he began to look frantically around the room. He grabbed the dagger from the dead assassin, and made his way over to the side of the tent. Then he plunged it in the cloth, and pulled it down to the ground, making a gaping hole for him to exit from. Before he left, he turned back to his brother. As he lay in a growing pool of blood, with a pair of swords buried in his chest. A sight Daimous would remember for the rest of his life. But this would not go unpunished. Daimous grit his teeth. That Elf will pay.
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Sands
Poster The moster
Posts: 128
PSN ID: SandyJak
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Post by Sands on Feb 9, 2014 6:04:25 GMT -5
Episode 5 - Sky Hunter Daimous stared into the flames of their campfire. They licked and danced against the gentle snowflakes. As they disappeared into Oblivion. "I heard that, they buried him a few days later. In the Imperial Garden..." His head sank, and he stared at the ground between his legs. "Along with the other.. Great Heroes.." A cold breeze swept by. The fire arched and bounced, but still cracked with heat and warmth. Daimous blankly looked at the snow. His expression was easily engulfed with regret, and sadness. He continued, hesitantly. "So.. I moved out of the camp, and ran into the woods as fast-" He was interrupted by a greeting of warmth. Another human being leaning on him. It was a sudden comfort to him, so he held his tongue. Myra leaned her head on his shoulder. Clearly she didn't know what to say, so she tried to show affection in the simplest ways. Niether of them said a word. Daimous' eyes glanced next to him. Her eyes reflected light from the fire, and her hair slowly waved in the bit of wind. To Daimous, she was an envision of some sort of angel. Somehow, her simple act of kindness perfectly mended Daimous' grief. He smiled, and gently leaned his head on hers. ------ The storm grew weaker, but still threw snowflakes down onto the ground. It was noon of the next day, and the pair had already set off, despite the weather. The two horses trotted along the snow covered path. Myra in front, Daimous behind. Neither of them had forgotten the conversation last night. But there was no awkward silence, or cautious questions. They greeted each other warmly through out the morning. It felt like a weight was lifted from his chest, and Daimous knew that he could finally heal from the tragedy. Now that he told his story, the truth could spread. But he knew, he would never step into the Imperial City as a friend. Myra watched ahead into the snowy wind. Tress passed by them on both sides, but to their right, a lake appeared in the distance. She pointed to it. "That is lake Yorgrid!" Daimous was close enough for them to speak at a normal level. She continued "There's a river that branches from it, and we follow that to Windhelm." "Have you been there before..?" Daimous asked in return. "No personally, but I know of the area." "And why is that?" She looked back at him, smirking. "I was part of the college. In Winterhold." "Huh.." Daimous rolled his jaw. Myra turned forward. "Well go on." "I don't take you as someone from Winterhold." "Well you have great insight, sir." Daimous huffed humorously. "Your not from High Rock are you?" "Not quite.." She was still smiling. "Somewhere on Nirn... Maybe..?" Now he smirked in kind. Myra laughed. "Now come on. This is very amusing." "Definitely not from Nirn." She bit her lip, and looked back to him. "I'm from the Reach." Daimous raised his brow. "Well that IS interesting.." "Don't get any ideas bub." She said jokingly still. "Oh no no..." He looked out into the woods. "I mean the way you toasted those guys a few days ago." She stuck her tongue out at him. "I'm curious now. I've heard some... Crazy things of the Forsworn." "Sorry Daimous, I can't answer any of these claims." Daimous leaned back, "Well its not like-" A strange sound cut him off. Daimous pulled back on his horses reigns. "Wait." Myra did as well, pulling it to the right, so she could investigate. Daimous sat quietly, staring into the distant sky behind them. "Daimous... What is it..?" He raised his hand. A distant roar echoed through the air. It was a clear ominous threat. Daimous grit his teeth. "What was that..?" Daimous recognized the sound, and looked back to her. "Dragon, we need to get off the road!" He pulled his horse around. Myra's heart began to race. She followed his lead without question. They galloped into the woods, away from the clearing of the road. Now the trees covered most of their movement from a sky view. This was the best defense in Daimous' favor. Simply avoid the monster all together. He watched the sky through the holes in the tree tops. Waiting for the shadow that marked their doom. However, he kept his mind at ease. Panic would be the worst thing to do right now. "Daimous, what do we do!?" Myra was more nervous than ever. "Just stay calm, we need to make way towards the city." He looked back to her. "It's the safest place to be right now. The roars grew louder. Shocking them both as it rang through the forest. Heavy winds began to shift the tree branches. A swooping noise that shot over them. And then, the shadow. The Dragon passed over them. Its hefty wings blowing twigs and snow up around them. "Its here!" Myra shouted ahead to Daimous. "Just go! Don't stop!" It flew by overhead again. It roared so loud that the horses shook and jerked against their riders. It was difficult to maneuver them between the tree trunks and boulders. Daimous cursed. "Damnit!" He looked frantically around their surroundings. The Dragon passed by again, it clearly spotted them. "Myra! We need to make for the road!" "Ok-" She stuttered in fear. Their horses blasted out into the roadway. Now they moved faster, they might have a chance of outrunning it. Trees blurred by, Daimous and Myra looked straight ahead. They only needed to move as fast as they could. It was their only chance. Daimous smacked his spurs. "Hah!" Edging his horse to move faster. Then he looked back. The Dragon swooped down at them from above. Its scales white, and spines a sky blue, it was still a frightening sight. Daimous swallowed hard. "Myra watch out!" She didn't have time to react. The Dragon opened its mouth, and blinding white, an unnatural breath of freezing wind, cut through the air. Myra screamed as it enveloped her and her steed. They both tumbled to the ground as the Dragon swooped by. "No!" Daimous pulled back, he didn't care if the Dragon would catch him. He wouldn't leave her. His horses slid to stop, and he immediately jumped to the ground. Before the snow flurry could clear, he sprinted towards them. Myra's horse lay in the snow, its back covered in the icy crystals and black, frost bitten flesh. Daimous leaped over it, to the frail girl, sprawled out in the drift beside them. He fell to his knees in the snow, lifting her head from it. "Myra!" Her head slunk back, along with her arms. The tips of her hair dangled in the snow. Most of her back was covered in similar ice crystals. An unnatural frost covered her skin and cheeks. Daimous lifted her head to examine her eyes. They were closed. He ventilated heavily, laying her down, he checked her pulse. "Please.." "D-Daimous.." A pitiful whimper. "Myra!" His face lit up. She didn't have the strength to reply. "Hang in there." He picked her up, and made his way towards his horse. "Stay with me girl.. Stay with me." She didn't answer. "Shit!" The Dragon had disappeared from the scene, assuming its attack was successful. But Daimous wouldn't give up. He carried her hastily. His eyes still scanning the area. "Just hang on!"
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